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Friday, April 04, 2014

As I rolled into work, I spotted the Animal Control van also entering my office parking lot. "Oh, today will be fun," I said to myself, as I wondered how I would react to a bunch of angry monkeys occupying the garage, stripping windshield-wipers off cars and using them like swords. Alas, there were no monkeys — there never are — and when I reached the exit stairs, I saw the Animal Control officer heading toward the back of the garage, which overlooks a grassy hillside that approximates actual nature, at least by the standards of the 134-adjacent Burbank.

(it looks like this, though less verdant now as a result of our droughtpocalypse.)

And then, about at eye level, sitting placidly on the hillside was a single coyote. The officer clapped his hands twice. "Go on! You go!" The coyote stood up and walked a few paces. Two more claps. "Go on! You go!" The coyote calmly ascended the hill and trotted into the nearby park. The cop turned around and headed toward the van.

Me: "Did you just come here to shoo away a coyote?"

Him: "Yeah, someone saw him and got scared."

Me: "But he was just sitting there. He wouldn't have bothered anyone."

Him: "Honestly, the coyotes help control the squirrels and rats that live here. So you're better off with them."

Me: "Oh, totally. Couldn't you have told the person who called that they're dumb?"

Him: "People just don’t know." He shrugged.

I'd like to think that the coyote left the scene with the same take-away the cop and I did: "That was kind of pointless."